Praed. I’m an old friend of her mother.  Mrs Warren brought me over to make her daughter’s acquaintance.

Frank.  The mother!  Is she here?

Praed. Yes:  inside, at tea.

Mrs Warren [calling from within] Prad-dee-ee-ee-eee!  The tea-cake’ll be cold.

Praed [calling] Yes, Mrs Warren.  In a moment.  I’ve just met a friend here.

Mrs Warren.  A what?

Praed [louder] A friend.

Mrs Warren.  Bring him in.

Praed. All right. [To Frank] Will you accept the invitation?

Frank [incredulous, but immensely amused] Is that Vivie’s mother?

Praed. Yes.

Frank.  By Jove!  What a lark!  Do you think she’ll like me?

Praed. I’ve no doubt youll make yourself popular, as usual.  Come in and try [moving towards the house].

Frank.  Stop a bit. [Seriously] I want to take you into my confidence.

Praed. Pray don’t.  It’s only some fresh folly, like the barmaid at
Redhill.

Frank.  It’s ever so much more serious than that.  You say you’ve only just met Vivie for the first time?

Praed. Yes.

Frank [rhapsodically] Then you can have no idea what a girl she is.  Such character!  Such sense!  And her cleverness!  Oh, my eye, Praed, but I can tell you she is clever!  And—­need I add?—­she loves me.

Crofts [putting his head out of the window] I say, Praed:  what are you about?  Do come along. [He disappears].

Frank.  Hallo!  Sort of chap that would take a prize at a dog show, ain’t he?  Who’s he?

Praed. Sir George Crofts, an old friend of Mrs Warren’s.  I think we had better come in.

[On their way to the porch they are interrupted by a call from the gate.  Turning, they see an elderly clergyman looking over it.]

The clergyman [calling] Frank!

Frank.  Hallo! [To Praed] The Roman father. [To the clergyman] Yes, gov’nor:  all right:  presently. [To Praed] Look here, Praed:  youd better go in to tea.  I’ll join you directly.

Praed. Very good. [He goes into the cottage].

[The clergyman remains outside the gate, with his hands on the top of it.  The Rev. Samuel Gardner, a beneficed clergyman of the Established Church, is over 50.  Externally he is pretentious, booming, noisy, important.  Really he is that obsolescent phenomenon the fool of the family dumped on the Church by his father the patron, clamorously asserting himself as father and clergyman without being able to command respect in either capacity.]

Rev.  S. Well, sir.  Who are your friends here, if I may ask?

Frank.  Oh, it’s all right, gov’nor!  Come in.

Rev.  S. No, sir; not until I know whose garden I am entering.